Saturday, April 5, 2014

All Hail The Ronian Metaphor

It's
fun that some people are so cool they get stuff named after them. Like the
Freudian slip, named after the famous witch doctor Freud. Or the Gordian knot,
named after Gordy the transvestite dominatrix who was a master with a rope. I
think I should have something named after me too! We could call it... the
Ronian Metaphor! Maybe if I wrote a few good ones, someone would notice and put
me in

"The
Grand Book of Famous People With Things Named After Them".

Hmmm, let's see.....

In that particular dress
she bulged slightly; like an elephant in a canvas handbag.

The air was perfectly
still; like a dead guy in a sensory deprivation suit suspended in a 2000 gallon
fish tank filled with solidified cherry jello.

The meat tasted a bit
gamey; as if cut from the flank of a rabid skunk and smoked over a burning
outhouse.

His poetry needed polish;
much like the inside walls of a spittoon.

She was a goddess; like
the Dwarven deity Helggurp who was known as "she of the braided body hair
and mistress of futility".

I'd made a tiny error;
like the one Stalin made when he figured no one would notice he slaughtered 8
million of his own people.

He was rich beyond his
wildest dreams; like the dream in which he's standing in the supermarket naked.

She was vibrant and full
of life; like Fidel Castro.

She had a twinkle in her
eye; as if her eye hid behind it the well-polished knife which would soon be
stabbing you in the back.

They looked at me
expectantly; as if a bevy of fire ants under a picnic table gathered around ten
pair of bare feet.

She was the symbol of
class; like a bendy straw in a glass of milk.

He had the most
fascinating way with words; like a drunken sailor who's been kicked in the
balls.